D. John. Sure, my brother is amorous on Hero, and hath withdrawn her father to break with him about it: The ladies follow her, and but one visor remains.

Bora. And that is Claudio; I know him by his bearing."

D. John. Are not you signior Benedick?
Claud. You know me well; I am he.

D. John. Signior, you are very near my brother in his love; he is enamored on Hero; I pray you, dissuade him from her, she is no equal for his birth; you may do the part of an honest man in it.

Claud. How know you he loves her?

D. John. I heard him swear his affection. Bora. So did I too; and he swore he would marry her to night.

D. John. Come, let us to the banquet.

[Exeunt Don JOHN and BORACHIO. Claud. Thus answer I in name of Benedick, But hear these ill news with the ears of Claudio, "Tis certain so;-the prince woos for himself. Friendship is constant in all other things, Save in the office and affairs of love: Therefore, all hearts in love use their own tongues; Let every eye negotiate for itself,

And trust ho agent: for beauty is a witch, Against whose charms faith melteth into blood." This is an accident of hourly proof,

a willow-tree, either to make him a garland, as being forsaken, or to bind him up a 10d, as being worthy to be whipped.

D. Pedro. To be whipped! What's his fault? Bene. The flat transgression of a school-boy; who, being overjoyed with finding a bird's nest, shows it his companion, and he steals it.

D. Pedro. Wilt thou make a trust a transgression? The transgression is in the stealer.

Bene. Yet it had not been araiss, the rod had been made, and the garland too; for the garland he might have worn himself; and the rod he might have bestowed on you, who, as I take it, have stol'n his bird's nest.

D. Pedro. I will but teach them to sing, and restore them to the owner.

Bene. If their singing answer your saying, by my faith, you say honestly.

D. Pedro. The lady Beatrice hath a quarrel to you: the gentleman that danced with her, told her, she is much wronged by you.

Bene. O, she misused me past the endurance of a block; an oak, with but one green leaf on it, would have answered her; my very visor began to assume life, and scold with her. She told me, not thinking I had been myself, that I was the prince's jester; that I was duller than a great thaw; huddling jest upon jest, with such impossible convey

Re-enter BENEDICK.

Bene. Count Claudio?

Claud. Yea, the same.

Bene. Come, will you go with me?
Claud. Whither?

Bene. Even to the next willow, about your own business, count. What fashion will you wear the garland of? About your neck, like a usurer's chain or under your arm, like a lieutenant's scarf? You must wear it one way, for the prince hath got your Hero.

Claud. I wish him joy of her.

Bene. Why, that's spoken like an honest drover; so they sell bullocks. But did you think, the prince would have served you thus.

Claud. I pray you, leave me.

Bene. Ho! now you strike like the blind man; 'twas the boy that stole your meat, and you'll beat the post.

with a whole army shooting at me: She speaks poniards, and every word stabs: if her breath were as terrible as her terminations, there were no living near her, she would infect to the north star. I would not marry her, though she were endowed with all that Adam had left him before he trans

gressed: she would have made Hercules have turned spit; yea, and have cleft his club to make the fire too.-Come, talk not of her: you shall find her the infernal Até in good apparel. I would to God, some scholar would conjure her; for certainly, while she is here, a man may live as quiet in hell, as in a sanctuary; and people sin upon purpose, because they would go thither; so, indeed, all disquiet, horror, and perturbation follow her.

Re-enter CLAUDIO, BEATRICE, LEONATO, and
HERO.

D. Pedro. Look, here she comes.

the great Cham's beard; do you any embassage to the Pigmies, rather than hold three words' con ference with this harpy: You have no employment for me?

D. Pedro. None, but to desire your good company. Bene. O God, sir, here's a dish I love not; I cannot endure my lady Tongue. [Exit. D. Pedro. Come, lady, come; you have lost the heart of signior Benedick.

Beat. Indeed, my lord, he lent it me a while; and I gave him uses for it, a double heart for his single one: marry, once before, he won it of me with false dice, therefore your grace may well say I have lost it.

D. Pedro. You have put him down, lady, you have put him down.

Beat. So I would not he should do me, my lord, lest I should prove the mother of fools. I have brought count Claudio, whom you sent me to seek.

D. Pedro. Why, how now, court, wherefore are you sad?

Claud. Not sad, my lord.

D. Pedro. How then? Sick?
Claud. Neither, my lord.

Beat. The count is neither sad, nor sick, nor merry, nor well: but civil, count; civil as an orange, and something of that jealous complexion.

D. Pedro. I'faith, lady, I think your blazon to be true; though, I'll be sworn, if he be so, his conceit is false. Here, Claudio, I have wooed in thy name, and fair Hero is won; I have broke with her father, and his good will obtained: name the day of marriage, and God give thee joy!

Leon. Count, take of me my daughter, and with her my fortunes: his grace hath made the match, and all grace say Amen to it!

Beat. Speak, count, 'tis your cue."

Claud. Silence is the perfectest herald of joy; I were but little happy, if I could say how much.Lady, as you are mine, I am yours; I give away myself for you, and dote upon the exchange.

Beat. Speak, cousin; or, if you cannot, stop his mouth with a kiss, and let him not speak neither.

D. Pedro. In faith, lady, you have a merry heart.

Beat. Yea, my lord; I thank it, poor fool, it keeps on the windy side of care:-My cousin tells him in his ear, that he is in her heart.

Claud. And so she doth, cousin.

Beat. Good lord, for alliance!-Thus goes every one to the world but I, and I am sunburned; I may sit in a corner and cry heigh ho! for a husband.

D. Pedro. Lady Beatrice, I will get you one. Beat. I would rather have one of your father's getting: Hath your grace ne'er a brother like you? Your father got excellent husbands, if a maid could come by them.

D. Pedro. Will you have me, lady?

Beat. No, my lord, unless I might have another for working days; your grace is too costly to wear every day :-But, I beseech your grace, pardon me: I was born to speak all mirth and

D. Pedro. She cannot endure to hear tell of a husband.

Leon. O, by no neans; she mocks all her wooers out of suit. 1

D. Pedro. She were an excellent wife for Benedick.

Leon. O Lord, my lord, if they were but a week married, they would talk themselves mad.

D. Pedro. Count Claudio, when mean you to go to church?

Claud. To-morrow, my lord: Time goes on crutches, till love have all his rites.

Leon. Not till Monday, my dear son, which is hence a just seven-night; and a time too brief too, to have all things answer my mind.

D. Pedro. Come, you shake the head at so long a breathing; but, I warrant thee, Claudio, the time shall not go dully by us; I will, in the interim, undertake one of Hercules' labors; which is, to bring signior Benedick and the lady Beatrice into a mountain of affection, the one with the other. I would fain have it a match; and I doubt not but to fashion it, if you three will but minister such assistance as I shall give you direction. Leon. My lord, I am for you, though it cost me ten nights' watchings.

Claud. And I, my lord.

D. Pedro. And you too, gentle Hero? Hero. I will do any modest office, my lord, to help my cousin to a good husband.

D. Pedro. And Benedick is not the unhopefullest husband that I know: thus far can I praise him; he is of a noble strain,' of approved valor, and confirmed honesty. I will teach you how to humor your cousin, that she shall fall in love with Benedick:—and I, with your two helps, will so practise on Benedick, that, in despite of his quick wit and his queasy stomach, he shall fall in love with Beatrice. If we can do this, Cupid is no longer an archer; his glory shall be ours, for we are the only love-gods. Go in with me, and I will tell you my drift. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.-Another Room in Leonato's House. Enter Don JOHN and BоRACHIO.

D. John. It is so; the count Claudio shall marry the daughter of Leonato.

Bora. Yea, my lord; but I can cross it.

D. John. Any bar, any cross, any impediment will be medicinable to me: I am sick in displeasure to him; and whatsoever comes athwart his affection, ranges evenly with mine. How canst thou cross this marriage?

Bora. Not honestly, my lord; but so covertly, that no dishonesty shall appear in me

D. John. Show me briefly how. Bora. I think I told your lordship, a year since, how much I am in the favor of Margaret, the waiting-gentlewoman to Hero. D. John. I remember.

Bora. I can, at any unseasonable instant of the night, appoint her to look out at her lady's chamber-window.

D. John. What life is in that, to be the death of this marriage?

Bora. The poison of that lies in you to temper. Go you to the prince your brother; spare not to tell him, that he hath wronged his honor in marrying

D. John. What proof shall I make of that? Bora. Proof enough to misuse the prince, to vex Claudio, to undo Hero, and kill Leonato: Look you for any other issue?

D. John. Only to despite them, I will endeavor any thing.

Bora. Go then, find me a meet hour to draw don Pedro and the count Claudio alone: tell them, that

you know that Hero loves me; intend' a kind of zeal both to the prince and Claudio, as-in love, of your brother's honor, who hath made this match; and his friend's reputation, who is thus like to be. cozened with the semblance of a maid,-that you have discovered thus. They will scarcely believe this without trial: offer them instances; which shall bear no less likelihood, than to see me at her chamber-window; hear me call Margaret, Hero; hear Margaret term me Borachio; and bring them to see this, the very night before the intended wedding for, in the mean time, I will so fashion the matter, that Hero shall be absent; and there shall appear such seeming truth of Hero's disloyalty, that jealousy shall be call'd assurance, and all the preparation overthrown.

or I'll never look on her, mild, or come not near noble, or not I for an angel; of good discourse, an excellent musician, and her hair shall be of what color it please God. Ha! the prince and monsieur Love! I will hide me in the arbor. [Withdraws Enter Don PEDRO, LEONATO, and CLAUDIO. D. Pedro. Come, shall we hear this music? Claud. Yea, my good lord:-How still the evening is,

As

hush'd on purpose to grace harmony! [self? D. Pedro. See you where Benedick hath hid him Claud. O, very well, my lord: the music ended, We'll fit the kid-fox with a penny-worth.

Enter BALTHAZAR with music.

D. Pedro. Come, Balthazar, we'll hear that song again.

Balth. O good my lord, tax not so bad a voice To slander music any more than once. D. Pedro. It is the witness still of excellency, To put a strange face on his own perfection: I pray thee, sing, and let me woo no more. Balth. Because you talk of wooing, I will sing: Since many a wooer doth commence his suit To her he thinks not worthy; yet he woos; Yet will he swear, he loves. D. Pedro.

Nay, pray thee, come:

SCENE III.-Leonato's Garden.

Enter BENEDICK and a Boy.

Bene. Boy,

Boy. Signior.

Bene. In my chamber-window lies a book; bring it hither to me in the orchard.

Boy. I am here already, sir.

Bene. I know that;-but I would have thee hence, and here again. [Exit Boy.]--I do much wonder, that one man, seeing how much another man is a fool when he dedicates his behaviors to love, will, after he hath laughed at such shallow follies in others, become the argument of his own scorn by falling in love: And such a man is Claudio. I have known, when there was no music with him but the drum and fife; and now had he rather hear the tabor and the pipe: I have known, when he would have walked ten mile afoot, to see a good armor; and now will he lie ten nights awake carving the fashion of a new doublet. He was wont to speak plain, and to the purpose, like an honest man, and a soldier; and now is he turn'd orthographer; his words are a very fantastical banquet, just so many strange dishes. May I he so converted, and see with these eyes? I cannot tell; I think not: I will not be sworn, but love may transform me to an oyster; but I'll take my oath on it, till he have made an oyster of me, he shall never make me such a fool. One woman is fair; yet I am well: another is wise; yet I am well: another virtuous; yet I am well: but till all graces be in one woman, one woman shall not come in my grace. Rich she shall be, that's certain; wise, or

1 Pretend.

Do it in notes.

Balth.

Note this before my notes, There's not a note of mine that's worth the noting. D. Pedro. Why these are very crotchets that he speaks; Note, notes, forsooth, and noting!

[Music.

Bene. Now, Divine air! now is his soul ravish'd! -Is it not strange, that sheep's guts should hale souls out of men's bodies?-Well, a horn for my money, when all's done.

Sing no more ditties, sing no mon Of dumps so dull and heavy; The fraud of men was ever 80, Since summer first was leavy: Then sigh not so, &c.

⚫ More.

Claud. O, ay;-Stalk on, stalk on; the fowl sits. [Aside to PEDRO.] I did never think that lady would have loved any man.

Leon. No, nor I neither; but most wonderful, that she should so dote on signior Benedick, whom she hath in all outward behaviors seemed ever to abhor. Bene. Is't possible? Sits the wind in that corner? [Aside. Leon. By, my troth, my lord, I cannot tell what to think of it; but that she loves him with an enraged affection,-it is past the infinite of thought. D. Pedro. May be, she doth but counterfeit. Claud. 'Faith, like enough.

Leon. O God! counterfeit! There never was counterfeit of passion came so near the life of passion, as she discovers it. [she? D. Pedro. Why, what effects of passion shows Claud. Bait the hook well; this fish will bite.

[Aside. Leon. What effects, my lord! She will sit youYou heard my daughter tell you how.

Claud. She did, indeed.

D. Pedro. How, how, I pray you? You amaze me; I would have thought her spirit had been invincible against all assaults of affection.

Leon. I would have sworn it had, my lord; especially against Benedick.

Bene. [Aside.] I should think this a gull, but that the white-bearded fellow speaks it: knavery cannot, sure, hide itself in such reverence.

Claud. He hath ta'en the infection; hold it up. [Aside. D. Pedro. Hath she made her affection known to Benedick?

Leon. No; and swears she never will; that's her torment.

Claud. 'Tis true, indeed; so your daughter says: Shall I, says she, that have so oft encounter'd him with scorn, write to him that I love him?

Leon. This says she now when she is beginning to write to him: for she'll be up twenty times a night; and there will she sit in her smock, till she have writ a sheet of paper:-my daughter tells us all.

Claud. Now you talk of a sheet of paper, remember a pretty jest your daughter told us of.

Leon. O!-When she had writ it, and was reading it over, she found Benedick and Beatrice between the sheet?

Claud. That.

Leon. O! she tore the letter into a thousand Lalf-pence; railed at herself, that she should be so immodest to write to one that she knew would flout her: I measure him, says she, by my own spirit; for I should flout him, if he writ to me; yea, though I love him, I should.

Claud. Then down upon her knees she falls, weeps, sobs, beats her heart, tears her hair, prays, curses:-O sweet Benedick! God give me patience!

Leon. She doth, indeed; my daughter says so: and the ecstasy hath so much overborne her, that my daughter is sometime afraid she will do a desperate outrage to herself: It is very true.

D. Pedro. It were good, that Benedick knew of it by some other, if she will not discover it.

Claud. To what end? He would make but a sport of it, and torment the poor lady worse.

B. Pedro. An he should, it were an alms to hang

Claud. And she is exceeding wise.

D. Pedro. In every thing, but in loving Benedick. Leon. O my lord, wisdom and blood combating in so tender a body, we have ten proofs to one, that blood hath the victory. I am sorry for her, as I have just cause, being her uncle and her guardian.

D. Pedro. I would she had bestowed this dotage on me; I would have daff'd' all other respects, and made her half myself: I pray you, tell Benedick of it, and hear what he will say.

Leon. Were it good, think you?

Claud. Hero thinks surely, she wil die: fo: she says, she will die if he love her not; und she will die ere she make her love known; and she will die if he woo her, rather than she will bate one breath of her accustomed crossness.

D. Pedro. She doth well: if she should make tender of her love, 'tis very possible he'll scorn it; for the man, as you know all, hath a contemptuous spirit. Claud. He is a very proper man.

D. Pedro. He hath indeed a good outward happiness.

Claud. 'Fore God, and in my mind, very wise. D. Pedro. He doth, indeed, show some sparks that are like wit.

Leon. And I take him to be valiant.'

D. Pedro. As Hector, I assure you and in the managing of quarrels you may say he is wise; for either he avoids them with great discretion, or undertakes them with a most Christian-like fear.

Leon. If he do fear God, he must necessarily keep peace; if he break the peace, he ought to enter into a quarrel with fear and trembling.

D. Pedro. And so will he do; for the man doth fear God, howsoever it seems not in him, by some large jests he will make. Well, I am sorry for your niece: Shall we go see Benedick, and tell him of her love.

Claud. Never tell him, my lord; let her wear it out with good counsel.

Leon. Nay, that's impossible; she may wear her heart out first.

D. Pedro. Well, we'll hear further of it by your daughter; let it cool the while. I love Benedick well; and I could wish he would modestly examine himself, to see how much he is unworthy so good a lady.

Leon. My lord, will you walk? dinner is ready. Claud. If he do not dote on her upon this, I will never trust my expectation. [Aside.

D. Pedro. Let there be the same net spread for her; and that must your daughter and her gentle. woman carry. The sport will be, when they hold one an opinion of another's dotage, and no such matter; that's the scene that I would see, which will be merely a dumb show. Let us send her to call him in to dinner. [Aside. [Exeunt Don PEDRO, CLAUDIO, and LEONATO. BENEDICK advances from the Arbor. Bene. This can be no trick: The conference was sadly borne. They have the truth of this from Hero. They seem to pity the lady; it seems, her affections have their full bent. Love me! why, it must be requited. I hear how I am censured: they say, I will bear myself proudly, if I perceive the Seriously carried on.

Thrown off.

love come from her; they say too, that she will rather die than give any sign of affection.-I did never think to marry:-I must not seem proud: -Happy are they that hear their detractions, and can put them to mending. They say, the lady is fair; 'tis a truth I can bear them witness: and virtuous;-'tis so, I cannot reprove it; and wise, but for loving me:-By my troth, it is no addition to her wit;-nor no great argument of her folly, for I will be horribly in love with her.-I may chance have some odd quirks and remnants of wit broken on me, because I have railed so long against marriage:-But doth not the appetite alter? A man loves the meat in his youth, that he cannot endure in his age: Shall quips, and sentences, and these paper bullets of the brain, awe a man from the career of his humor? No: The world must be peopled. When I said, I would die a bachelor, I did not think I should live till I were married. Here comes Beatrice: By this day, she's a fair lady: I do spy some marks of love in her.

Enter BEATRICE.

Beat. Against my will, I am sent to bid you come in to dinner.

Bene. Fair Beatrice, I thank you for your pains.

Beat. I took no more pains for those thanks, than you take pains to thank me; if it had been painful, I would not have come.

Bene. You take pleasure in the message? Beat. Yea, just so much as you may take upon a knife's point, and choke a daw withal :--You have no stomach, signior: fare you well. [Exit. Bene. Ha! Against my will, I am sent to bid you come to dinner-there's a double meaning in that. I took no more pains for those thanks, than you took pains to thank me-that's as much as to say, Any pains that I take for you is as easy as thanks :-If I do not take pity of her, I am a vil lain; if I do not love her, am a Jew: I will go get her picture.

SCENE I-Leonato's Garden. Enter HERO, MARGARET, and URSULA. Hero. Good Margaret, run thee into the parlor : There shalt thou find my cousin Beatrice Proposing with the prince and Claudio: Whisper her ear, and tell her, I and Ursula Walk in the orchard, and our whole discourse Is all of her; say, that thou overheard'st us; And bid her steal into the pleached bower, Where honey-suckles, ripen'd by the sun, Forbid the sun to enter;-like favorites, Made proud by princes, that advance their pride Against that power that bred it:-there will she

hide her,

To listen our propose: This is thy office,
Bear thee well in it, and leave us alone.
Marg. I'll make her come, I warrant you, pre-
sently.
[Exit.
Hero. Now, Ursula, when Beatrice doth come,
As we do trace this alley up and down,
Our talk must only be of Benedick;
When I do name him, let it be thy part
To praise him more than ever man did merit:
My talk to thee must be, how Benedick
Is sick in love with Beatrice: Of this matter
Is little Cupid's crafty arrow made,
That only wounds by hearsay. Now begin:
Enter BEATRICE, behind.

For look where Beatrice, like a lapwing, runs
Close by the ground, to hear our conference.

Urs. The pleasant'st angling is to see the fish
Cut with her golden oars the silver stream,
And greedily devour the treacherous bait:
So angle we for Beatrice; who even now
Is couched in the woodbine coverture:
Fear you not my part of the dialogue.
Hero. Then go we near her, that her ear lose
nothing

Of the false sweet bait that we lay for it.-
[They advance to the bower.
No, truly, Ursula, she is too disdainful;
I know, her spirits are as coy and wild
As haggards of the rock."

Urs.

[Exit.

But are you sure,

That Benedick loves Beatrice so entirely? Hero. So says the prince, and my new-trothed lord.

Urs. And did they bid you tell her of it, madam? Hero. They did entreat me to acquaint her of it: But I persuaded them, if they loved Benedick, To wish him wrestle with affection,

And never to let Beatrice know of it.

Urs. Why did you so? Doth not the gentleman Deserve as full, as fortunate a bed, As ever Beatrice shall couch upon?

Hero. O God of love! I know, he doth deserve

As much as may be yielded to a man:

But nature never fram'd a woman's heart
Of prouder stuff than that of Beatrice :
Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes,
Misprising what they look on; and her wit
Values itself so highly, that to her

All matter else seems weak: she cannot love,
Nor take no shape nor project of affection,
She is so self-endeared.
Urs.

Sure, I think so;

And therefore, certainly, it were not good
She knew his love, lest she make sport at it.

Hero. Why, you speak truth: I never yet saw man.
How wise, how noble, young, how rarely featur❜d,
But she would spell him backward: if fair-faced,
She'd swear, the gentleman should be her sister;
If black, why, nature, drawing of an antick,
Made a foul blot: if tall, a lance ill-headed;
If low, an agate very vilcly cut:
If speaking, why, a vane blown with all wind;
If silent, why, a block moved with none.
So turns she every man the wrong side out;
And never gives to truth and virtue, that
Which simpleness and merit purchaseth.

Urs. Sure, sure, such carping is not commendable Hero. No: not to be so odd, and from all fashions As Beatrice is, cannot be commendable: But who dare tell her so? If I should speak, She'd mock me into air; O, she would laugh me Out of myself, press me to death with wit. Therefore let Benedick, like cover'd fire, Consume away in sighs, waste inwardly: